Chapter eighteen
Bryan
For the first time in years, I feel free. It’s an unfamiliar sensation; one I didn’t even realize I was missing until now.
The past few days have been good. Not just in the way things sometimes are when life settles into something tolerable, but in the way that Emma makes everything feel different.
Lighter. Brighter. Like I can breathe again.
I lean back in my office chair, the city skyline stretching beyond the glass, but my mind isn’t here. It’s drifting to the way Emma had laughed when she’d shoved ice cream in my face, the teasing glint in her eyes when she accused me of cheating at Uno, the way she had felt against me in the water, skin warm beneath my touch, eyes wide, lips parting.
I exhale sharply, raking a hand through my hair. I don’t know how I got to this point, but I don’t want it to end.
The phone in my hand lights up as I press the button, and I barely think before I type out a message.
Bryan: I want to remind a certain someone how I completely dominated that ice cream fight the other night.
Three dots appear. Then…
Emma: Dominated? Bryan, you were a sticky, mint-chocolate mess. I won that war, hands down.
I grin, tapping out my response.
Bryan: Debatable. Maybe we need a rematch.
Emma: You wish. Anyway, I have an actual life outside of embarrassing you.
Bryan: I’m not buying it. Where are you, sweet Miss Em?
Emma: If you must know, I’m at the fair. Stella dragged me out and then bailed on me. But I must admit, it’s kind of nice just walking around.
I pause, heart ticking up. The annual Ocean Bay fair.
The same one we went to when I was seventeen, where I tried to win her that massive stuffed bear and ended up with nothing but a bruised ego and a plastic keychain.
She’d teased me for weeks.
Bryan: You’re at the fair? Without me?
Emma: Some of us enjoy life, Mr. Workaholic.
I smirk. Knowing just how to make my day interesting. I push back from my desk, grab my phone, and head for the door. I think I’ll leave my car here so I can ride with Em however she is getting home.
By the time my Uber pulls into the lot, the fairground is alive with twinkling lights and laughter. The scent of kettle corn and fried dough waifs through the air, mingling with the distant echoes of carnival music and the hum of the Ferris wheel turning against the night sky.
I scan the crowd, searching. Then, I see her.
Emma stands by a ring toss booth, her head thrown back in laughter, the glow of carnival lights dancing in her eyes. She’s in a simple sundress, hair loose around her shoulders, and I swear the air shifts and pulls me right toward her. Like it always does.
I move toward her, slipping through the crowd, and just as she turns, I step behind her, close enough that she feels me.
“Look who I found,” I murmur near her ear.
Emma jumps, spinning around, eyes wide. “Bryan! You’re…”
“Here?” I smirk.
Her expression shifts from shock to amusement. “You seriously drove all the way here?”
I shrug. “Couldn’t have you having all the fun without me.”
She narrows her eyes. “You mean, you couldn’t stand the idea of me winning all the carnival games without you.”
Busted.
I glance at the stuffed panda in her arms and nod toward the game booth behind her. “Did you win that?” Emma scoffs. “Excuse you, I won it fair and square.”
“Hmm.” I glance at the rows of prizes behind the counter, then back at her. “Still not the biggest one, though.”
Her lips curve. “Are you really about to embarrass yourself again?”
I smirk. “Watch and learn.”
I hand the booth attendant a few bills and line up my first shot. Emma watches, arms crossed around her panda, amusement clear in her expression.
“This is going to be tragic,” she whispers.
I focus, roll the ball in my hands, and let it fly. It misses.
Emma bursts out laughing. I exhale sharply, shake my head, and try again.
Another miss. Now she’s grinning wide. “Okay, okay, I have to record this.”
I shoot her a flat look. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
She tilts her head. “You did say you wanted a rematch.”
Challenge flares in my chest. Fine.
“If I win,” I say, picking up the next ball, “you have to go on the Ferris wheel with me.”
Emma blinks. “That’s your grand wager?”
I nod. “Unless you’re scared.”
She rolls her eyes, but the pink in her cheeks tells a different story. “You’re not going to win,” she mutters.
I smirk. “We’ll see.”
I aim. Throw. The ball lands perfectly. The bell rings loud. Emma stares.
I turn to the attendant. “Biggest prize.”
He nods, reaching up for the massive stuffed lion that hangs near the top.
When I turn back, Emma’s still staring. “That… was luck,” she says.
I smirk. “Guess you’re riding with me.”
The seat rocks slightly as the Ferris wheel starts to ascend, taking us higher, the town shrinking below.
Emma sits beside me, her “new” stuffed lion wedged between us, and for a moment, we just watch the lights twinkle below.
Then she turns, eyes searching. “Why did you come here tonight?” The question isn’t light.
I glance at her, at the way the glow of the fair reflects in her eyes, and my chest tightens.
Because I missed you. Because I can’t stay away. Because when I’m not around you, I feel like something’s missing.
Instead, I say, “You dared me.”
Emma lets out a breathy laugh. “That’s all it takes?”
I shake my head, slow. “No. But it was a good excuse.”
The wheel reaches its peak, the world stretching wide beneath us. Emma looks down, then back at me. “I forgot how beautiful this is.”
I don’t take my eyes off her. “Yeah,” I say, voice low. “It is.”
She catches it. The shift. The pull. And when I reach for her hand, threading my fingers through hers, she doesn’t let go.
For a moment, neither of us speak. The world is quiet, the only sound our breathing, the distant hum of the fair below.
Then she turns, eyes soft, uncertain, searching. I lean in. Slow, again giving her the chance to pull back.
She doesn’t. The kiss is soft, hesitant at first. Then warmer, fuller like the first drop of rain after a drought.
When we pull apart, her eyes search mine. She whispers, “Bryan… what are we doing?” I tighten my grip on her hand. “Enjoying the moment.”
She exhales, nods. And as the Ferris wheel begins its descent, I know I don’t ever want to let her go again.
The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of fried dough and sea salt as we walk away from the fair, our fingers loosely tangled. Emma’s skin is warm against mine, her laughter still echoing from the last ride we took. I don’t want this night to end.
She nudges me with her shoulder, tilting her head up at me. “You’re smiling a lot tonight,” she muses, her eyes teasing.
I smirk. “Blame it on the Ferris wheel. Or the fact that I just proved I’m the reigning champion.”
She scoffs. “You cheated.”
I tug her closer as we walk. “And yet, you still have that stuffed lion in your arms while I carry this measly little panda.”
Her arms curl around the plush toy, and a small, almost shy smile tugs at her lips. She’s so beautiful when she does that. That soft kind of smile, the one she used to give me when we were teens and tangled in each other’s world. The one I’ve caught glimpses of again these past few weeks and I’ll do anything to keep it on her face.
The street is quieter now, most of the fairgoers heading home. We pass the warm glow of a small shop window and something catches my eye. The old gift shop.
I slow, pulling her toward it. “Let’s go in.” Emma hesitates. “Bryan…”
I squeeze her hand. “Come on. I haven’t been in here in years.”
She exhales, shaking her head but letting me lead her in. The door chimes, and immediately the familiar scent of aged wood and vanilla candles greets us. Shelves line the walls, stocked with everything from seashell jewelry to hand-carved trinkets.
An elderly woman looks up from behind the counter. “Well, look who the tide washed in.”
Emma grins. “Hi, Mrs. Dawson.” Mrs. Dawson beams, giving me a once-over. “Bryan Kingston, I never thought I’d see you in here again. And with Emma Greene, no less.” She winks. “Feels like the good old days.”
Emma’s cheeks pinken, but I just smirk. “We’re reliving our youth.”
“About time,” Mrs. Dawson muses, turning back to her book.
I glance around, my gaze landing on a small display of seashell pendants. I pick up a delicate silver chain with a blue sea glass pendant, holding it up. “This reminds me of you.”
Emma’s eyes soften. “Because?” I step closer, tilting my head as I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “You always used to collect sea glass. You said they were pieces of the ocean’s heart.”
Surprise flickers in her gaze. “You remember that?”
I chuckle, fingering the pendant. Of course, I do .
Mrs. Dawson clears her throat from behind the counter. “Young man, are you buying that for the lady, or are you going to stand there staring at her all night?”
Emma huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t have to …” I ignore her, pulling out my wallet. “I want to.”
She watches as I pay, her gaze unreadable, but there’s something in her eyes that makes my chest tighten. When I clasp the necklace around her neck, my fingers graze the back of her neck, and she shivers.
She feels it, too. She swallows, brushing her fingers over the pendant. “Thank you.”
I take her hand again, leading her back out onto the street. “Come on. Are you still hungry?”
She exhales a soft laugh. “Depends. Where are we going?”
When I tell her it’s the best seafood spot in town, she arches a brow. “That’s a bold claim.”
“Trust me.”
We walk hand in hand toward The Wharf, a small seafood shack perched on the edge of the bay. The scent of grilled shrimp and butter fills the air as we step onto the deck, the water stretching endlessly before us. Lanterns flicker, and a few locals wave as we settle into a table near the railing.
Emma leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. “I admit, this place is charming. It’s been redecorated since the “old” days.”
“Told you,” I tease, flagging down a waiter. “Two orders of grilled shrimp tacos, extra lime.”
Emma grins. “You remember my order.”
I smirk, sipping my beer. “I remember everything.”
The breeze lifts her hair, and in the golden glow of the lanterns, she looks breathtaking. As we eat, she watches the waves, her voice softer when she speaks. “The past few weeks…” She pauses, swirling her drink with her straw. “They’ve been some of the best of my life.”
Something warm and fierce flares in my chest. “Yeah?”
She nods, then hesitates, biting her lip. “The other best time of my life was before I left town.”
The words hit me like a wave. I set my fork down, studying her. “Emma…”
She shakes her head, looking down at her plate. “I guess I just … I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if it was okay to say that out loud.”
I reach across the table, my fingers brushing over hers. “It’s more than okay to say it.”
She looks up, and for a moment, we’re seventeen again. Just a boy and a girl who never stopped belonging to each other. The moment stretches, deepens. The hum of the ocean, the glow of the lanterns … it’s just background noise to the pull between us.
I squeeze her hand, voice rough. “For what it’s worth, it was the best time of my life, too.”
She exhales shakily, nodding. The waiter interrupts, dropping the check, and we both lean back, breaking the spell. But the tension lingers, thick and undeniable.
As we leave, Emma fingers the pendant around her neck, her steps a little lighter. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. Tonight was a memory, a moment.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s the start of something neither of us can ignore anymore.